The
ubiquitous branding of Will Smith™ over the past several years—from his son
becoming a karate kid to his daughter whipping her hair back and
forth—camouflages the fact that the erstwhile Fresh Prince hasn’t starred in a
movie since Seven Pounds four years
ago, marking the first time he hasn’t released films in consecutive years since
1995.

Men in Black III
comes ten years since the last sequel, and the time away hasn’t been kind to
the subfusc-clad odd couple tasked with protecting Earth from the scum of the
universe. For some reason, Agent J (Smith) remains preoccupied with trying to
figure out why Agent K (Tommy Lee Jones) is so surly and K is still reticent
about telling J intimate state secrets, problems you’d think the duo would have
resolved over their 14-year partnership.

Agent
J travels back to 1969 to save his taciturn partner from being killed by Boris
(Jemaine Clement), a snarling fugitive who escapes from a moon-based prison and
also looking to time jump in order to exact revenge on K for shooting his arm
off 40 years ago.

At
first, the whole plot feels like an artifice built around the gimmick that Josh
Brolin, playing K circa 1969, can do a killer Jones impersonation. In truth,
the 65-going-on-85-year-old Jones (and his bad makeup job arises suspicions
that K is actually an alien) isn’t able—or willing, judging by his palpable
disinterest—to carry the entire movie, so Brolin enters to share the comedic
load with Smith and the proverbial cast of cosmic creatures. Still, I’ll take
three minutes of Jones’ deadpanned wit over Brolin’s mimicry, which eventually
devolves into just calling his partner “Slick” about two dozen times.

But
the principal problem with any Men in
Black sequel, particularly one as lifeless as this, is the lost sense of
discovery that made the first film so hip. Now, all those carnivorous aliens
disguised as humans, memory swiping, shiny shooting gadgets and Danny Elfman’s insistent
score seem more like pastiche stripped of its once zippy vibe. And time travel back
to the 1960s? You may as well just watch Austin
Powers again.

The
ripple effect of alternate timelines, illuminated via a clairvoyant creature
named Griffin (Michael Stuhlbarg), quickly becomes the narrative’s focus and
albatross. It’s a concept rife with potential but entirely belonging in another
film. Moreover, its execution litters the story with gaping plot holes and throwaway
characters. Emma Thompson plays the new MIB boss who shares a decades-old
relationship with K that, for some reason, the previous two films never hinted
at. Bill Hader provides a too-brief depiction of the “real” Andy Warhol, and Pussycat
Doll Nicole Scherzinger helps baddie beau Boris bust out of Lunar Max only to
vanish as quickly as she arrived.

Men in Black III
isn’t good, but it also isn’t necessarily awful. Its biggest fault is that it’s
unoriginal and dreadful dull. A ticket to see it should come coupled with a
Neuralyzer so filmgoers can zap their brains when the closing credits start
rolling and forget everything they just saw.